Help Me to Help You
by The Cliffhanger Girl
Summary: Eli Goldsworthy has come down with a bad case of the chickenpox; who will come over to take care of him? /Eclare/
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys! This is for someone whose birthday is today...and I put together for "Anon"! :) **HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANON!** Please Enjoy this (possible) two-shot I'd like to call, "Help Me to Help You...

**Twitter:** TheCliffyG

No Beta Reader, so ignore mistakes if any :)

**Rated T for:** Cursing/Sexual Jokes/

* * *

**_Help Me to Help You _**

**_Buzz_**

**_Buzz_**

**_Buzz_**

An annoying, continuous ringing echoed through the young girls ears as she buried her head deeper in the pillow beneath her, hoping it would stop. Unfortunately, the longer she let it ring, the louder the volume increased.

Sighing in defeat, she flipped open her phone, lying it against her ear lazily, "Hello?"

"Oh thank goodness! Clare, it's Cece-I need a favor of you! Are you busy today?" Clare forced her eyelids open to glance over at her clock, which read 'Saturday, April 20th, 8:18AM'.

"Um, no I'm not," Clare tossed her blankets to the side, sitting up tiredly in her bed, letting her legs dangle to the floor. "Is everything alright? What's going on?"

Not that she minded being called by her boyfriends mother; it's just that she would've liked a fair warning and a little time to get ready.

"Actually, no it's not. Bullfrog is down at the radio station all day and I have to visit Eli's grandmother for our monthly visit. I know this is a lot to ask of you, but-."

Clare laughed lowly at Cece's nervous tone, cutting her off politely, "What is it Cece? Just spit it out!"

"You see, last night Eli came down with something. He hasn't been feeling well for the last couple of days, and he was greeted with a nice kick from the chickenpox monster."

"So that's why he has been keeping his distance from me, because he didn't want me to get sick?" Clare accidently asked aloud.

"Most likely, honey. He thought he'd get better, but looks like he has only gotten worse. The blisters are more red and irritated, but he finally fell asleep after spending the night by the toilet. Unfortunately, the stomach bug can really get you with the chicken pox. The only reason he's been throwing up is because I fed him that stupid soup last night because he hasn't eaten in three days," Cece sighed out, showing her evident worry tone through the phone. "But anyways, how soon can you get over here?"

Eli has been there for Clare through everything; Asher, Mike Dallas, and even fighting her own personal demons along the way. Taking care of him while he was sick was the least she could do.

"Give me twenty minutes, I'll try to rush."

* * *

**CLARE**

"Oh Clare!" The moment I walked into the Goldsworthy residence, Cece wrapped her arms around me, giving me a tight squeeze. "I'm so happy you came! Now, Eli is sleeping, and if he wakes up all cranky because I didn't tell him you were coming tell him I'll be back as soon as I can. All the medicine is sitting on Eli's table in his room. Plus, try to convince him that taking a bath might help him with the itching. The ride to Grammy is about two hours, and sometimes that woman doesn't stop talking so I'll be home around dinner time. Is that alright?"

"It's not a problem. Take your time, have fun. I can handle Eli." She smiled, patting my curls, "This means the world to me Clare, you have no idea. This is a really big help."

"Thank you again!" She called out, hiking her bag over her shoulder and locking the door behind her.

My eyes scanned the kitchen, to the living room, and up the stairs.

Since Cece said Eli was sleeping, I wouldn't want to wake him up. But then again, I had to take care of him, and make sure he was okay. I grinned effortlessly, looking at the pictures of Eli as a baby hanging up on the walls.

I slipped off my shoes before his door, not wanting my small heel to wake him up.

I bit back my bottom lip, slowly turning the doorknob to the right. The door creaked slightly when being opened, and when I closed it. The stupid 'click' noise echoed the quiet room. I silently prayed, hoping Eli didn't wake up.

To my relief, he was still sleeping.

A smile curled up on my lips, looking at the two shark oven mitts covering his hands. His eyelids looked heavy, practically weighing down the features of his face. The blisters covered areas of his face and arms. Since I couldn't see his legs, being that he had his skinny jeans still on, I wasn't sure if the chickenpox had spread there as well.

"...Hi."

My eyes widened, watching Eli slowly flutter his eyelids open, "Staring at me, Edwards?"

"You wish. How're you feeling? Do you need anything...or do you want to go back to sleep? I can get you water, or-," he cut me off, trying to readjust in the bed. "Slow down, and I'll let you know if I need anything. Don't think I didn't know you were coming, I heard Cece proclaiming her thankfulness and love for you downstairs."

"I'm glad I could help. I thought you were ignoring me because you didn't want to talk or I did something wrong," I mumbled, rolling his computer chair aside his bed.

"I didn't want to get you sick, Clare. And besides, Cece took my phone away when I was starting to get sick so my phone isn't covered in the germs. I didn't want you to come over today because you'll get this too. But no one listens to the sick guy," he scoffed, shutting his eyes briefly.

"Where do you think you got it from?" I asked curiously, as he brought his hand down to his leg, scratching furiously over the thick cloth of the jean.

Instead of answering me, he ignored me, muttering curse words.

"Fucking bitch," he grunted underneath his breath, trying not to let me hear it since he hated using fowl language around me. I watched him claw at his jeans, and I suggested, "You know, itching it will only make it worse. Maybe you should take those off. I read online before I left that-."

He scoffed, resting his head against the pillow, "Only you would look up information on chickenpox."

"I did it for you, because I care and I want you to get better," I encouraged, grabbing a pillow that fell onto the floor. I cautiously touched the back of his head, pushing it up a bit to place the pillow beneath it so his stuffy nose could go away. You could hear the nasal tone from a mile away; that's how bad it is.

"I'm guessing you wouldn't let Cece or Bullfrog help you get better?" I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.

"I don't like anyone seeing me like this. And for your information, no, I didn't let them help me. Cece comes in every now and then to give me soup, but besides that, no." I sighed, raking my fingers through my hair in frustration.

"Will you let me take care of you?" I asked nervously, looking into his tired green eyes. "Please Eli, let me help you."

"...Alright," I was holding back the squeal inside me, "On one condition Edwards."

"What?"

"Put a pair of oven mitts on downstairs. I don't want you getting this shit too."

* * *

**ELI**

"Fucking pants," I muttered, rubbing my thigh angrily.

"That's it, I'm done watching you scratch yourself. Take your pants off," Clare ordered, and I laughed, "Trying to get me naked, Edwards? Pretty good plan you got there, I must say."

"Seriously Eli, the cloth will only irritate your skin. You really should only being wearing loose clothes, if anything. You'll be surprised how the itchy tension will go down a bit," Clare stared at me, waiting for me to remove my skinny jeans.

"These are my babies, I can't take them off." Clare glared at me; something she has rarely did, only when she was getting angry with me. I sighed, "Alright alright, I'll take them off. But I need help getting up. My legs feel like itchy jello."

Clare cautiously moved behind me, linking her oven mitts underneath my armpits, assisting me to my wobbly feet.

"Do you want me to take them off?" She asked, already pulling at my chained belt. Her fingers moved quickly, and before I knew it my shaky legs were bare before Clare. She blushed, as I kicked the jeans away from my bed.

Without even asking, she tugged at the hem of my shirt, and threw it over my head. She glanced down at my chest briefly, before swallowing the lump in her throat.

"Does that feel better?" I didn't want to admit it, but the relief from the tight fabric was beyond amazing.

Reluctantly, I responded softly, "I feel like my legs can breathe. Excuse my boxers, I didn't know you were coming over."

"Skulls are cute, don't worry," she assured, pulling me towards the bathroom. "What are you doing? I want to go back to my bed..." I longed for the feeling of my back against my mattress, and my throbbing head against my soft pillow.

"While you're up, I figured you could take a quick bath." The blood rushed to my cheeks, and as if the burning fever wasn't enough to make me dizzy, I lost my footing with Clare's fast paced rhythm, and nearly toppled her over.

"Sorry, sorry," I muttered, and she laughed, "It's fine, don't worry. Here, sit on the toilet."

She put the lid down, and guided me to the seat. I gripped onto her forearms tightly with my covered hands. My eyelids clenched shut, a wave of nausea coming over me.

"C-Clare," I choked out as she was filling up the bathtub, not paying any attention to me.

I was too slow to turn my body and get down on my knees; resulting in last nights chicken noodle soup making a show for the third time. My lips quivered, and my stomach churned once again, noticing the vomit had covered Clare's bare feet.

Hot tears streamed down my face from embarrassment, and instead of Clare screaming at me, or becoming irritated, I felt her hand on my back, rubbing it soothingly.

"I-It's alright Eli, you couldn't help it. It's fine," she comforted calmly, gripping my shoulders to maneuver me in front of the toilet. She opened the lid, and I rested my head against the toilet.

The cold touch against my hot face cooled down the dizzy feeling, but my stomach was still whooshing in discomfort.

"I-It's coming up again," I warned, and Clare nodded, tracing her mitt over my back. "It's okay, let it out Eli."

My body jerked up, the bile creeping up my mouth in an instant, spilling into the toilet.

"There ya' go Eli, there you go. It's alright, you're doing fine, you're okay," the shakes had ever-so-kindly came over my body, sending a chill up my spine. My eyelids drooped in exhaustion, "Let's get you cleaned up. I know you're tired, you can fall asleep. We just have to get you washed."

I nodded, clenching my eyebrows tightly together, just agreeing with her for the sake of not having another argument over me being too stubborn.

"D-Do you want to keep your boxers on?" she asked with a clear stutter, and I nodded, responding weakly, "You got my pants off and you want to see my junk all in one day? Clara Edwin makes a second appearance."

"Shut up and get in the water," Clare teased, helping me lift my leg over into the water.

"It's not hot enough," I whined, always having been a big fan of steaming hot baths. They would always either put me to sleep, or relax my muscles. Either way, I'd be happy after it.

"It's lukewarm Eli. You can't have a hot bath or the heat will make you itch," I rolled my eyes, resting my back against the bathtub. Clare grabbed a towel on the rack in my bathroom, and wiped her feet of the contents of my stomach.

"I'm really sorry about that. I wish I could've stopped it," I whispered dryly, resting my head against the top of the tub while letting the water relieve the need to scratch until I see my bones.

"It's fine, really. My boyfriend getting his vomit all over me is kind of romantic...in a weird way," she concluded, watching my every move. I flinched, feeling an itch in a place that couldn't be scratched around Clare.

I bit back my bottom lip roughly, breaking the skin.

"Let me get a rag and I'll wet you down," she mumbled, rummaging through the small towels in the spare cabinet above the bathtub. In a matter of second Clare was dipping the white rag into the water, and then pressing it to my back. .

A moan slipped through my lips, feeling the water slide down my back.

"You like that?" I nodded gratefully, not trusting my voice.

Each light squeeze from her tiny fists dripped the water down my back, soothing the irritating feeling to claw at my skin. I stared down her soft, smooth looking skin without any bumps on it, and tears formed in my eyes, wishing that was what I looked like right now.

"Hey, what's wrong? Am I hurting you?" Clare asked softly, stopping her motions.

"N-No, no it's fine. I'm just-just frustrated. Everything is so itchy," I groaned, leaning my back against the edge, resting my arms. Clare smiled towards me, "You know you'll get better Eli, this won't stay on your skin like this forever."

"I know I know, I'm just impatient and frustrated," I admitted, closing my eyes to try and relax.

"Keep your eyes closed, and let me do the rest..."

**_This time; I didn't object. _**

* * *

"Hi Bullfrog," I greeted Eli's father, who threw his keys on the table, and turned to me with open arms. "Clarabelle! Cece told me you'd be here! How're you doing?"

He wrapped his arms around me, giving me a tight embrace; boy does this family love to hug.

I gestured to my mitts, and laughed, "It's been a long day, but not that bad. Um, actually, I heard you come in and wondered if you could help me out."

"What's the little pain in my ass up to now?" he joked, and I sighed in defeat, "He kind of...sort of...fell asleep in the bath. I was washing his back, and then his chest. Before I knew it, he wasn't responding to me and I realized he fell asleep. I tried to lift him up, but it's kind of hard on my own."

"When that kid sleeps he's like a ton of freaking bricks! I'll help you, let me just get a pair of gloves on or something; that kid is sick as a dog and I have work tomorrow morning again," Bullfrog rummaged through the drawers, before pulling out another pair of oven mitts.

"Okay seriously? How many oven mitts do you guys have?" I asked, teasing Bullfrog.

He snorted, "Remember when Eli cooked you that six month anniversary meal?"

I smiled, blushing at the memory, "...Yes."

"Well, he insisted on cooking on his own so he can prove himself to you-and let me tell ya', the kid burned four pairs of oven mitts in the process. Needless to say, Cece bought a whole box of em' after that incident just incase the sucker wants to cook for you again," I laughed, shaking my head.

"You do know that he only made me mac-n-cheese with chicken nuggets that night because I told him I didn't want anything special?" I asked Bullfrog, and he nodded, "Mac-n-cheese and chicken nuggets is far too much for a kid who sits in front of the television with that game boy kid all day."

We both joined into a small fit of laughter, before making our way up the steps and into Eli's bathroom.

"Look at that little fucker," Bullfrog muttered, and I had to bite my tongue to hold back the obnoxious chuckle that was about to explode.

"I'll get the right side since he's heavier on that side," Bullfrog instructed, and I looked his way confusingly."He's my kid, holding him on my hip for nearly seven years can give you that advantage."

My feet swiftly traveled to the left side, and on the count of three, we lifted Eli out of the tub. It was much easier with another person pulling half of his weight. Even though he wasn't heavy, he was still a growing boy, which made the slightly toned muscles heavier than I thought.

We placed Eli over his bed, and I took the liberty in stripping the bed, washing the sheets, his pillowcase and blanket while he was sleeping. Bullfrog sniffed around him, and laughed, "You cleaned his sheets?"

I nodded, "I had nothing to do...and besides, they smelt a little vile."

"He probably thew up in those sheets and laid in it. He's a sick fucker sometimes," Bullfrog joked, patting my shoulder before walking out of the room. "Oh and Clarabelle, I'm ordering a pizza for dinner, you're welcome to stay. Would you like to stay?"

_Pizza didn't sound so bad after a long day._

"Yes, sure, thank you." I smiled kindly, before turning to Eli. His boxers were soaked, and since the air conditioner was on full blast in his room, there's a possibility that he can get even more sick.

I grabbed a dry towel from the bathroom, before hesitantly wrapping it around his waist and tucking it beneath him. He squirmed, groaning out loud, "Trying to feel me up in my sleep, eh?"

"Sorry," I apologized, "I just don't want you to get sicker."

"I actually feel a bit better...hey wait, I didn't fall asleep here-did I? Wasn't I in the bathroom?" I scoffed, "Funny story...you fell asleep in the bathtub when I was cleaning you."

"Oh shit, I'm sorry Clare-," I cut him off, "Don't worry, your dad helped me carry you to the bed."

A comforting silence filled the air, and I closed my eyelids for a moment, enjoying the darkness behind them.

"I-I'm really sorry about making you spend your Saturday with me," he began, "I wouldn't want to spend a day taking care of an itchy, vomiting, sickly, tired guy. You probably wanted to finish that series you were reading today, weren't you?"

"Plans change, and I'm glad they did. Spending the day with you was fun, I missed you," I spoke truthfully, resting my head against my palm. He smirked, "I missed you too...you have no idea how much I wanted to kiss you all day today."

He groaned, trying to lean up. I placed my clothed hand on his shoulder, "Easy there, you have to rest."

"One kiss?" he begged tiredly, the nasal tone had disappeared over his rest in the bathroom.

"Once you're better, I'll shower you with kisses my big boy," I convinced him, and when his lip turned into a pout, I placed my mitt over his. He glanced up at me, and I asked, "In sickness and in health, right?"

"Right."

* * *

I might do a Chapter 2 where Clare has the chickenpox, what do you think? One-Shot or Two-Shot?

**Review please! Feedback from you guys can only help :) **

Love you guys,

Cliffhanger Girl

3


	2. Chapter 2

Hey guys! Thank you so much for the alerts/subscriptions/reviews for this story. The support is really amazing, and if I could thank you all personally, I would. Please Enjoy the second/last chapter of "Help Me to Help You"...

**Twitter:** TheCliffyG

No Beta Reader, so ignore mistakes if any :)

**Warning:** OOC'ness and Eli belives in God (hence his 'silent prayer')

* * *

**_Help Me to Help You_**

**CLARE**

"Hey Clare, ready to run some suicide laps? I hear Coach is making us run the full hundred because of the prank that was pulled yesterday by the hockey team," Adam spoke beside me, beginning to jog lightly in place. Even though he was right next to me, I felt like he was miles away.

"I-I'm so excited," I joked, trying to fight the urge of ripping all my clothes off and itching down my entire body.

"Clare? You don't look so good, are you alright?" He asked, stopping his movements to take a look at me.

I swallowed the tightening lump in my throat, hoping the nauseous feeling would pass. My palms, back, and waistline were currently breaking down in an intense sweat. I could feel it dripping down my spine, absorbing in the back of my gym shirt.

"Do you want to sit down, or something?" Adam whispered, and the whistle blew, signaling to pay attention.

Coach Armstrong walked attentively by all of us, narrowing his eyes towards the line of teens before him. My legs were shaking slightly from the pressure of getting this test done, on top of the _**want** _to itch the back of my thighs which were covered by the yoga styled cloth.

"Alright class, one hundred laps! Let's go!" The whistle blew twice, and by the time I was halfway across the gym, I stopped. Mr. Armstrong began yelling at me, telling me to keep moving like everyone else-but I couldn't, it hurt; everything itched, burned, and the nausea was unbearable.

My eyes darted around for help, but all I saw was blurred figures and stars before my legs gave out from underneath me...

* * *

**ELI**

"I'll stay with her Mrs. Martin, it's not a problem. I'm just glad she's okay. I was so worried when Adam texted me that she fainted during Gym. I apologize though, this is all my fault that it happened," I looked down at the floor, shuffling my feet at the front door.

Helen opened the door wider for me, gesturing for me to walk inside, "Nonsense Eli, Clare has been keeping her illness a secret for a couple of days now. I told her to stay home, but she kept ranting and worrying about this running test she had. The nurse said she had a one hundred and four fever when she collapsed."

"U-Um, no offense, but why didn't you bring her to the hospital?" I asked irritably, rubbing the back of my neck to calm myself down.

"Oh, we can't afford to pay those bills. We had to put down a loan on Jake's garden at school, plus we're putting more money aside to add a new member to this family," I watched in a bit of confusion as she rubbed her hand lightly over her stomach, smiling up at me.

"Besides, you're here to take care of her now, so thank you for that. I have a few errands to run; Jake is out with Katie and Glen is at work so I'll be back around five. Is that okay?" I nodded, muttering a "yeah".

My eyes wandered around the kitchen aimlessly, as I waited for Clare's mother to leave. The second the door shut behind her, I sighed in relief, taking my jacket off.

How could she do this to Clare? She has a dangerously high fever, and she even blacked out during school. And yet, she doesn't want to bring her to the hospital because of finances?

Hell, I'm debating whether to bring her to the hospital myself.

I scanned the contents of the freezer, taking out the four bags of ice. I rolled up my sleeves, heading up the stairs and across the hall from Clare's room; the bathroom.

With much difficulty, I ripped the bags open and watched the ice pile up to the top of the tub. Once it was filled, I quietly made my way into my girlfriends room, the smell nearly knocking me out.

Clare lay on the wooden floor, her heavy eyelids barely opening as I approached her, gently placing my hand over the sweaty shirt wrapped around her body.

"S-Sweetheart it's me...it's Eli. Can you hear me? Are you awake?"

When I had a fever as high as hers I was dellusion, which would explain her awkward position; pressed to the floor like a sticker to a folder. Fevers make your entire body feel like wobbly, weak jello and I knew she was in much discomfort if she was getting what I had nearly a week ago.

Her face was the equivalent color to a tomato, and her arms were coated with light blotches; chickenpox. I groaned, mentally slapping myself for letting her take care of me. I should've forced her to leave and come back when I felt better.

_But no...she just had to bat those eyelashes._

"Clare, I'm going to fill up the tub with some water, and you're taking a bath to cool off." Her eyes immediately opened, shaking her head miserably.

"I-I just want the itching feeling to stop," she moaned, tears forming in her eyes.

I grabbed a clean sheet resting on her bedside, and wrapped it around her, saying a silent prayer to God that I wouldn't get infected with this again. She moaned in exhaustion, her curls sticking to her forehead from all the sweat.

"You're going to have to work with me a little Clare," I whimpered, her feet practically dragging in front of me.

When we stepped into the bathroom, her body fidgeted a bit, seeing the ice piled up in the tub.

"I-I don't want to Eli, stop," she begged, her voice small and sounding close to a sob.

"There's no way in hell I'm letting my girlfriend have close to a hundred and five fever. Your body needs to cool down unless your temperature will keep increasing. This is dangerous. If it doesn't go down, then I'll be taking you to the hospital," I warned her, slipping on a fresh pair of oven mitts Cece lent me.

"Can you stand?" I asked, and she shook her head, mumbling words I couldn't comprehend.

Taking care of a sick Clare was harder than I thought, considering the fact that her eyes keep wandering and her fever keeps sparking up; sending her into a different, more painful world.

I watched in amusement as she sat down on the bathroom floor, huddling up next to the toilet. She hugged it, patting the lid comfortingly.

"Nauseous?" I asked, darting across the hall to her room and going through her drawers.

My fingers shook a little at the sight of her bras all alligned in one drawer, next to her panties. A part of me wanted to take a pair; you know, just in case she needed one to change into at my house from getting her _**so**_ wet to a point where-.

"Stop it," I muttered to myself, closing the dresser and heading back to the bathroom where a delirious Clare laid.

"I'm going to take off your clothes for you, okay? Do you want to keep your uh...undergarments on?" My fingers fumbled with the hem of her shirt, her arms weighing down the fabric as I tried to lift it over her head. Once the shirt was thrown to the corner of the room, she forced a weak smile, before leaning her head against the toilet seat lid lazily.

"Do you feel like you're going to throw up?" I asked questions, but she kept shaking her head up and down, or left to right, with that disheveled expression on her face.

"Bath" she repeated under her breath, her head hanging heavily.

"Alright, let's just get these yoga pants off," I mummbled to myself, knowing talking to Clare or trying to reason with her wasn't an option in her state. I used the mitts to grip her waist, and stand her up on her shaky feet.

"Put your hand on my shirt," I ordered, and she nodded, holding onto my shirt-in which I had another shirt beneath it. Even though the chances of me not getting the chickenpox relapse was slim, I still had a fair chance.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding in once I saw the irritated blisters covering her legs.

"I-I'm sorry this happened to you."

My eyes scanned the bathroom for Cece's "Get Better Soon" bag that she had packed for me when I heard Clare was sick. I quickly fetched the small pair of mitts, as Clare held her hands up shakily.

After covering her fingers, which I'm sure was a waste to cover by now since she had successfully tore open nearly all of the blisters; irritating her skin. I pushed down the lump in my throat, and guided her to the bath tub. Her mitt hands gripped onto my arms and a loud squeal echoed the house when her left foot came in contact with the ice.

"Are you insane?" She seethed through her gritted teeth, "I'm not sitting in this! It's way too cold! What kind of drugs were you-."

I watched in worry as her face contorted, her skin becoming a palish-green color.

"Clare, Clare are you okay?" Her lips tightened, and she shook her head. She seemed to have lost her footing in the tub, slipping clumsily into my chest.

The reaction time wasn't enough for me to turn her head before the contents in her stomach coated my pants, and seeped through the fabric. Her bile came quickly after, dripping down my favorite Dead Hand shirt.

"O-Oh God," she shoked out, "E-Eli I ruined your favorite shirt, I-I'm so-."

Clare covered her hand over her mouth, and I took that as a silent signal that she was about to vomit once more. Her face contorted, and since the garbage can was all the way in the opposite corner, I took the closest thing. My hands worked quickly, holding my book bag up to her quivering lips. I rubbed the back of her neck with my mitt, holding back her damp curls as her body jerked into the bag, releasing what looked like yesterdays burger we shared at The Dot.

"I-It's ok, you're fine. It's just my bag, I can get a new one," I assured her, patting her back gently.

Without protesting this time, she lowered herself into the tub filled with slightly warm water and ice cubes.

"Can you hand me a towel, Eli? I-I feel gross...and tired...and nauseous...and disgust-," I cut her off, taking a clean towel and wiping off the excess remains of her stomach from the corner of her lips.

"You might feel that way, but you don't look it," I smirked, resting on my knees beside her.

I used a clean hand towel, and washed her back as she leaned her head on her knees, closing her eyes lightly. She breathed in, taking slow, steady breaths. I hummed a quiet tune, hoping to relax her in a time where all she could probably think about was the ice, freezing, and itching.

"Cold?" I asked, and she nodded, "Chilled to the b-b-bone. How long d-do I have to s-stay in here for?"

My lips tightened as I examined her face, seeing as though the discoloration of dark red had lightened up.

"I have a thermometer," I suggested, "Cece packed it. Let's sit you on the edge of the tub and take it. If it hasn't gone down, then I'll call Bullfrog; he'll have to drive us to the hospital."

"My mom can't afford it, Eli," she whimpered out, and I sent her a _glare._

"But we can afford it," I insisted, "And you _**always**_ come first in the Goldsworthy family."

I smirked in admiration, grabbing Clare's fishy towel. She giggled, hitting my chest with her mitt, knowing she knew what I was laughing to myself about.

"We don't all have skeleton patterned towels mister," she teased, and then muttered an apology about the warm vomit soaking up in my shirt, to my pants. I didn't even want to look at my book bag; just assuming that I would have to burn it later.

When I sat her down on the outer edge of the tub, I bent down, digging through Cece's bag for the thermometer.

"Nice view," My girlfriend teased, as I finally found the stupid thermometer, pulling it out of its case.

Using the balls on my feet, I turned to her, and smirked, "Now bend over and I'll take your temperature."

Her cheeks flushed and I scoffed under my breath, "I'm just kidding. Here, just stay still."

The blisters around the outershell of her ear made my skin crawl. In knowing that I did this to her, guilt was still coming over me. But, all that I could do at this point was try to help her get better.

**_Beep._**

**_Beep._**

**_Beep._**

"One hundred flat," I flashed her a smile, before saying, "Looks like it's going down on its own pace. Let's get you into some fresh clothes and get you to sleep. Your body needs rest."

* * *

**CLARE**

As Eli flung the blankets onto the floor, and turned up the air conditioner in my room to cool it down, I slowly sank into the mattress. A lining of sweat coated his forehead, and I thanked him once again for his hospitality.

"You look a bit green," he noted, "Feeling nauseous again?"

A smile tugged up on my lips, realizing Eli had changed into a pair of my clothes. The v-neck shirt hugged him tightly, showing off his slightly visible abs. He was wearing lounge shorts, which were mid-thigh.

"You look very...interesting," I noted back, biting back my bottom lip.

"Very funny Edwards. You see, this is what happens when a boyfriend tries to do his job right; he gets hurled on," he teased, taking a seat beside me on the bed. It was shocking to realize that this was the first time he has stopped moving since he walked through my bedroom door five hours ago.

He looked at me strangely, before whispering, "I don't know...you look a little green to me, it's worrying me."

Another wave of nausea came over my stomach, feeling like an ocean wave crashing on a persons body with a surprise attack. I didn't feel the vomit coming up, but the nauseous feeling remained.

"I think I have the perfect remedy," he shot up, walking swiftly down the steps.

I forced my eyelids shut, trying to get rid of this horrid feeling away. But nothing I did, nor said seemed to help relieve this **_pain._ **

"Found it!" Eli cheered, holding up a bottle of Ginger Ale.

"I don't like that, so it won't help," I muttered under my breath, my left thigh beginning to have the _**want** _to itch once more. I've already had Eli scold me for itching a _tiny_ blister on my pinky, so I don't even want to know what he'll do if I claw at my thigh like a wild animal that was just released from its cage.

"Just because you don't like it," he began, pouring me a glass, "doesn't mean it won't work."

Before I could protest any further, Eli pressed the lining of the glass against my lips, tipping my head back so the liquid could spill down my throat. I grabbed his knee in discomfort, not enjoying the taste of the drink at all.

"You're almost done, just a few more sips." My boyfriend kept encouraging me, while using his other mitt-covered hand to stroke smooth circles over my back.

"All done," I choked out, as he rested the empty glass on my bedside table. He held up his oven mitt, gesturing for a high five.

"You're such a dork," I whispered, and his eyebrows shot up. "Did you just call the handsome, smart, sex monster Elijah Goldsworthy a dork? There's no such thing."

I sniffled, letting the cool air from the vents hit the parts of my skin that were exposed. Since I had shorts and one of my enlarged, pajama shirts on, the amount of chilled air hitting my skin was phenomenal.

He kneeled down beside me, as I turned on my side, grinning at him, "You know...I have to itch my leg really badly but I won't."

"You won't, because you love me and trust me when I say that not itching will be worth it in the end," without warning, Eli pressed his lips to mine, stealing a kiss. I opened my eyes widely, "What're you doing? Now you're going to get sick again with this! We can't both have it-that's not fair to you!"

He cupped my cheek with the shark mitt on his right hand, sliding his tongue through my lips. I mentally thanked the lord of toothbrushes, for I had washed my mouth out before doing this.

When he pulled away, stroking the fin of the shark over my cheek, he whispered honestly, "I don't care if you get sick...I haven't kissed you in three days and it was killing me.

"You're going to get sick though," I retorted, as he slid in behind me, wrapping his arm around my waist.

"When I said I was all in Clare...I meant it. I love you."

"I love you too."

**END OF HELP ME TO HELP YOU**

* * *

**Was the ending too cheesy? Review please, let me know :3**

Love you guys,

Cliffhanger Girl

3


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